


Mercury in Retrograde

by Enigma_IM



Category: Among Us (Video Game), exophilia - Fandom, teratophilia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Among Us (Video Game) Setting, Attempted Murder, Blood and Violence, Blue is sus, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Human/Monster Romance, Murder, Red is imp, Red is sus, Tentacle Monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26706739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigma_IM/pseuds/Enigma_IM
Summary: Murders on the ship causes chaos among the crewmates. It's best to work in groups, till you find out there are two imposters aboard.
Relationships: White/Blue
Comments: 9
Kudos: 60





	Mercury in Retrograde

**Author's Note:**

> Yea, this was purely for my enjoyment. it's not well written, I definitely could have made it longer, and I stand by this. The first letter of everyone's name goes to their color in the game. no light blue, it's cyan.

A crewmates' job is never done. Lights to fix, destinations to set, filters to clean. Everyone plays an important role in a spaceship like ours. It's humbling in its own right, to work as a unit to reach a common goal. No one is against another, all are part of a team. With 18 workers on a supply ship, it's impressive that everyone is working so harmoniously.

Electrical work is shockingly my favorite chore. Many are scared of the isolated room but I find solace in having some alone time. I connect wires, humming to myself before clicking the panel shut. Walking over to the tablet to let admin know everything is up and operational I faintly hear the doors whoosh open. I toss a look over my shoulder to the dim room, looking over the fuse box. I hear nothing, not even faint footsteps. Curious, I step away from the tablet.

"Hello," I call into the room. I walk closer, slowly revealing the other half of the room. My heart nearly slows to a snail's pace, tension morphing my previously lax posture. My feet clank against the metal floors, echoing around the light hum of the machines. I turn the corner, the door coming into view slowly. I open my mouth to call again when someone steps into view, grabbing my shoulders. I yelp, jumping before backing out of their hold. I look up to a sort of familiar face.

"You alright, B," they ask," I didn't mean to startle you." I take a deep breath, rubbing at my chest to soothe my racing heart.

"All is well, just wasn't expecting you to be around the corner," I chuckle," you are a quiet man, Wes."

"Yea," they huff," I get that a lot."

I straight myself, chuckling once more before walking towards the door. It opens at my proximity, staying open as I pause and look over my shoulder.

"I'm heading up to Nav," I wave," see you later, Wes" they wave stiffly, staying into the partially lit room. I twist away with a pep in my step, walking out to my next chore.

Days on the ship feel like they mix together, no one really understanding what day it is. A lot of the crew break up the monotony with game nights, scheduling them for the same day of the week. It's a fun little get together that a good group of people take part in. great conversation and comradery with some cards and snacks. I take part in the activities once in a while, catching up with my fellow coworkers. It's nice.

Another Friday comes and a small group gathers in the cafeteria. Everyone is jovial; teasing, and joking with one another. We bet meal passes and favors, adding some stakes to the games. Just another casual game night.

I look to my cards, thinking on my next bet. My hand isn't good but what they don't know won't hurt them. I call, setting my cards down the same time the door opens. A few of us look over, spotting Wes walking over. He takes a chair outside the circle, sitting at a distance in favor of watching.

"hey," I catch his attention," you wanna play next round?" Wes looks to me startled, taking a tad too long to answer.

"No," he crosses his arms," I'm good."

"Wes doesn't like playing with us peasants," Rebel answers. His loud boisterous voice carries around the room, his laugh just as bad. The large man has been wrecking shop as of lately. He is a poor excuse for a coworker, not that he doesn't do his jobs but does them poorly. A few of us have tried to keep game night out of his mind, 'accidentally' forgoing reminding him.

"It doesn't hurt to try," I shrug," more players means more asses to kick in this game." I get a few chuckles and a snort from Wes. I'll take that as a win.

The night progresses until we are nearly tired of playing. As I'm ready to call last round another person walks into the room, leaning against a table as she comes in. she is panting and wheezing, sweat making her hair stick to her face. We all begin to stand, looking confused and worried at one another.

"Penelope," someone calls," you alright?"

"he's dead," she mumbles. We all stiffen, the room snapping in tension.

"Whose dead," another asks.

"Greg is dead," she says louder, jerking her head up to look at us all," I can't…I was… oh god." she falls to a seat, cradling her body as she shakes.

We all look around, confusion decorating our faces. Rebel looks to Wes, giving a strange look to the man. Wes sneers, turning away with a jerk of his head. A few workers walk over to Penelope, comforting her, while others leave to investigate.

The rest of the week is tense as the investigation is taken place. As a first look, we all knew Greg's death was no accident. Nothing on this ship could rip up a man the way he was torn apart. The coms room he was found in was locked off for a while, only confirmed personnel allowed in. everyone is on high alert, tiptoeing around one another. Some stick to a tight circle of friends, traveling in groups to avoid suspicion and attacks.

It's not till a few days later that another attack is reported. Two people were found dead in medical. The three deaths send the whole ship on lockdown. Everyone is to be kept in groups and no one is to be walking around after curfew. The previously peaceful ship is now left in shambles of panic and stress.

My stomach rumbles as I sit alone in my bunk. It's annoying in its own right to not be able to walk to the cafeteria on my own. Now having to contact some friends to walk with me. I manage to scrounge up two people to walk with. Lindon and Oliver.

"While we are in the cafeteria you guys don’t mind watching me while I deal with the trash," Oliver asks as we walk to the halls.

"Not at all, I'm just glad to be out of my room for a while," Lindon stretches, yawning as he talks.

I huff," I know what you mean. At first, I enjoyed going to my room at the end of the day but now I relish in the work just to be able to walk around."

We chat amiably as we grab food. It feels almost normal amongst the chaos to just talk with friends. I can almost put the deaths behind me and pretend everything is normal.

Oliver walks over to the trash shoot as Lindon and I talk a bit more. We all head out towards storage, leaving Oliver to lead as Lindon and I joke around.

"Buck tried to screw around with shields and ended up turning them off, like how! It's the easiest system to work with on this whole damn ship," Lindon laughs.

"Buck just needs to stick to weapons and never touch anything else," I snort, chuckling along with them. I barely watch as Oliver turns the corner on the storage bins. We follow after him, laughing all the while. Before I can turn the corner I get a ping to my device and lights flash around the room.

"Something wrong with the reactor," I mumble, nervously looking towards the hall," You don't mind sticking with Oliver while I go check?"

Lindon waves his hand," that's fine, be careful though. Just scream really loud if you see something." I scoff, smiling at them before I walk down the hall. I jog up to the reactor and meet up with another crew member. Yasha waves before heading to the opposite side of the room. We both quickly clear the machine, meeting each other at the door.

"That's weird, right," I ask, thumbing behind me towards the large reactor.

They shrug," it's happened once or twice, it's when the alarms go off that it's serious."

"huh," I nod," Hey, you don't mind walking with me back to storage. I left Oliver and Lindon there to finish up some chores."

"I don't mind at all," they answer.

We silently walk towards storage, heading towards trash. Yasha pauses at the door, waving bye as I walk around. I casually look around the bins, ready to catch sight of the two. As I look over I don't see two people, instead of two masses on the floor.

"Oh my god," I gasp, startling back at the blood pooling over the floor. I gawk, staring wide-eyed at the bloody bodies sitting close together on the floor. I can't think, barely breathe as I just stare.

"B," someone shouts," What did you do?"

I jerk my head over to the small group of people crowding the hall from coms. An older man leads the charge, glaring daggers at me with great accusations sitting on his tongue. Behind him is Rebel, staring blankly towards me, and Penelope. I sputter, not knowing what to say.

"i-," I try to speak. I give up, knowing any excuse would lead to more distrust.

I make it by with the skin of my teeth. Yasha is the saving grace with an alibi that explains where I was beforehand. The meeting was filled with shouting and harsh accusations. People formed terrible reasons and false sightings of where I was during each murder. It's awful.

I sit in the cafeteria alone, nursing a drink that Yasha had stashed away before we launched. I owe them my life, helping me by speaking up. Though I now live day by day with accusing glares and harsh words. It's fine, I'm alive and not launched off the ship for murder. God, what has my life become?

As I take a sip, relishing in the bitter taste, someone grabs a chair beside me. I wince at the sound of the chair scraping, preparing myself for a confrontation. No one has been so bold to corner me but what do I know of these people? One of them is a murderer.

"You doing alright," they ask. I look to them, confused at the concerned question. Wes leans against the table, fidgeting with his thumbs.

I look to his hands then back to his unemotional face," What?"

"Are you alright," he asks again. I watch him, looking for some mischief or distrust. He remains blank, just watching me without a tick or twitch.

I scoff, turning back to my drink," why would you care? Looking for more pointless evidence to get me shot out?" I suck down the rest of the liquid, shotgunning it in hopes of being more amicable to this conversation.

"No," he huffs," I know you didn't do it."

I side-eye him," really?" he nods, fiddling with his thumbs instead of speaking. I watch him pick at his nail, scratching down the side of his finger aggressively. "You ok," I ask, watching the red whelps litter his finger in clawed lines. He freezes, tugging his hands back and leaving them on his lap.

"I'm fine, just been itchy lately," he mumbles. I nod, dropping the subject in favor of watching the empty glass in my hand.

"Why don't you think it's me," I suddenly ask, preparing myself for an answer I won't like.

He shrugs," I just have my guesses."

I look to him," humor me, why don't you think it's me?"

"Do you want me to think it's you," he nearly smiles," doesn't seem smart if you are in fact innocent."

"Yea," I huff," I guess your right." we sit in silence once more. I swirl my finger at the top of the glass, too busy thinking.

"You're too nice," he answers. I snort, looking to him amused.

"You think I'm too nice to murder anyone?"

He nods," you are too nice to everyone to have the guts to kill them."

I humor him," wouldn't that be a perfect plan? Lower their guard so they feel safe around me?"

"well, that would make you a psycho instead of a murderer," he slides down his chair, laxer.

"What's the difference," I turn fully towards him.

He crosses his arms, thinking before answering," a psycho would enjoy the kills while a murderer sees them as walls in the way."

"You think the killer is trying to reach a goal," I ask. He stiffens, looking to the floor.

"it's just a guess," he shrugs.

"It’s a particularly specific guess," I lean towards him. He just shrugs again, looking like he rather be anywhere but here. I watch him, suspicion forming in my mind.

"Why are you here," I ask instead. His eyes flick around the room, looking from one spot to another. He scratches at his hand harder, short little flicks of his finger.

"I was worried about you," he says," everyone is ostracizing you and I don't want you to be alone while he is out there."

"who is out there," I try to catch him in a lie.

He stutters, opening his mouth before closing it. The accusation sits heavy in my chest. It can't be Wes, but it really could be. If it's true then I'm in complete danger being alone in here with him. I look to the door. How long will it take to reach the door before he can run up and grab me? Could I make it while he is stuttering over his words?

As I think, he touches my knee. I jump, snapping to him with wide startled eyes. His previous anxiety seems to have melted away to a calm composure, almost sympathetic and compassionate composure.

"B, I just want you to know that I will keep you safe from whoever is out there," he says seriously," you all will catch them and everyone will think of this as a bad dream. Just keep your head up and don't go anywhere alone."

"o-ok," I stand from my chair," I'm going to head back to my room now." I walk across the room before he can answer, trying to keep some self-control until I reach my bed.

"Wait," he calls out," let me walk you back." I stop, back tense, and shoulders near my ears. His footsteps lead up to me, stopping just beside me.

We walk out the cafeteria towards my room, the silence deafening the empty hall. Each step is taken with anxious effort. I wait for a pen to drop so I can dart away from him. I know he is tense too, keeping a bit of a distance from me. I can't tell if he is waiting for an opening or he truly meant what he said. Either way, I cannot tame my racing heart.

I spot my door and relief nearly makes me sigh. As we step closer I hear voices down the hall. Around the corner, two figures walk towards us. As they near I can make out two familiar faces, Rebel and Casey. Casey is giggling at whatever Rebel said to her. Rebel's face is cocky, arrogant even. As they pass Rebel throws an arm over Casey and winks to us.

I can't pay them any mind as I quickly try to open my door and head inside. Looking over my shoulder I watch Wes sneer down the hall, nibbling on his lip when he looks to the floor.

"Uh, thanks," I nod," night."

He jerks his head towards me," Night."

And the night ends there. Sighs of relief and suspicions.

Slowly but surely people start dropping like flies. Solo kills all around the ship makes our numbers dwindle till we are nearing single digits. People start accusing me more till they start following me around and realize I have nothing to do with it. The previously split crew has become a closer unit, the commander getting everyone left to sleep in the cafeteria. It's hard to kill someone with so many eyes watching.

I look to the room hardly filled with people. The commander sits with three others, talking amongst themselves. Wes and Rebel sit in a group of two others. A few stranglers stress out around the edge, like me. We all wait patiently, none of us wanting to lose someone again.

My eyes grow heavy as I sit leaning against the wall. I look at the group, watching them all sleep or lay in their little cots. If there was ever a time to act it would be now. To sneak around and slit the throat of a dreaming crewmate. I can't fall asleep, someone will die. I keep reminding myself that until my eyes burn.

As my lids nearly close an alarm rings around the room. Playing for just a few seconds before we are all collapsed into darkness. People scream and shuffle, everyone awake. I shoot up from my spot, not being able to see in the utter darkness. Only a few stars visible from the giant window offer guidance. I quickly get out my tablet, turning it on for light and information. I click wildly, finding that light fuses have been tripped.

I try to open my mouth to scream to the crew what the problem is but they are all still shouting and screaming. I grind my teeth, not liking what I have to do now. Without thinking it for too long I hug the edge of the room and head towards electrical.

The tablet only lights a few feet in front of me, and only in front of me. I listen to the fading yells of the cafeteria and try to focus on if anyone is following me. My heart is ready to burst from my chest as I round the corner and spot the doors to my destination. I don't wanna be here, by the heavens I don't wanna be here. Swiftly I rush to the door, opening it forcefully as I slip inside. I'm nearly hyperventilating as I shine my light on the switches before me.

"Just turn them off then on, simple," I mumble to myself. I flick the switches with stumbling fingers, hands shaking with the mountain of stress. I stiffen as I hear a high screech noise from beyond the room. Waiting, I listen on. My finger hovers on the last switch but if it’s the killer perhaps I can use the cover of darkness to flee. Listening closely I hear nothing. Quickly I flick the final switch.

I sigh in minimal relief, knowing I still have the trek back to the cafeteria before me. With a courage-building breath, I turn around. Red fills my vision until I look up at a horridly stretched out face. I faintly notice the familiar stubble and bushy eyebrows of a strongly disliked crewmate. His cheeks are ripped, his right cut leading up over his eye. Writhing tentacles stretch out the large gash.

"Hello morsel," he says in a guttural vicious voice. I jump, falling back against the fuse box. His lower body splits, a larger tentacles slithering out to lash at my person. Thinking quickly I jump to the side, not looking back as I craw further into the room. I realize my mistake as I scramble towards a corner. He notices as well, chuckling in a nonhuman laugh.

I clamber towards a wall of wire and panels, turning so my back presses firmly against it. I look to Rebel, panicking as I try to figure something-anything- out. I look around the room, trying to find any weapon as this monstrous creature prowls closer.

"No way out," he teases," nowhere to go." his stomach appendage slithers on the ground towards me, wrapping around my ankle. He tugs softly, allowing me to fight effortlessly. I cry out, jerking my leg towards myself. He laughs, pulling harder so I may fall onto my back. I claw at the ground, my nails bending backward as I try to find purchase.

"Please," I whimper, not knowing if I'm talking to him or a higher power. He steps between my feet, laughing as he leans down. I clench my eyes closed, bracing myself.

"No one is going to-," he doesn't finish. My leg jerks a bit but I remain still. A loud thud follows shortly after and a shout. I open my eyes slowly, looking ahead into the room with unease. Standing before me is a man, seething with fist clenched at their side. Beyond them is Rebel propped on his elbow, having been forced to the floor.

"What the hell," Rebel shouts. The man in the white shirt says nothing, merely glaring down at the …thing. Rebel gets up from the floor, his face forming once more into a hateful sneer. His stomach tentacle writhes in the air, threatening without action. The man takes a step back, looking over his shoulder briefly before keeping eyes on his opponent.

"Wes," I whisper to myself," what are you doing here! You have to run!" I try to warn him, clambering to stand as he faces the monster down. Wes remains still, waiting on Rebel.

"You wish to do this," Rebel asks. As Wes doesn't answer Rebel shrugs," Suit yourself." before anyone can react Rebel's tentacle shoots out and wraps around Wes's arm. Wes leans back, fighting against the grip. It's in vain as the limb pops and rips at the shoulder. I can see the light shine between the sinew trying to hold on but to no avail. It snaps, detaching completely into Rebel's grip. I don't have time to gasp before the arm wriggles and writhes, lashing out farther than I thought possible. The fingers spin into a single appendage, wrapping around Rebel's arm.

"What," I gasp, looking to Wes' body. Where his arm was previously is a mass of wriggling tentacles.

I can't process anything. Watching blankly as the two fight. The scene is straight out of a monster flick, reminding me of a movie that takes place in the arctic. The bodies morph and slash, normal proportions of a human being stretches and rips. Its something I know I'll never forget till the day I die, which I hope won't be soon.

The writhing mass I believe to be Wes grabs at two points on Rebel, lifting him up and pulling. The stomach gash rips loudly, some of the tentacles caught at the two points tear as well, popping as the tension relieves. Soon Rebel is torn in two, writhing and screaming. Wes keeps tearing, splitting the half into smaller halves. It's when the mess stops moving does Wes stop, standing above the destruction.

Everything is silent, only the sound of my panicked breathing is heard. I watch Wes, not knowing what is going to happen next. Is he going to turn to me next? Surely no one kills a murderer just to turn and kill the victim.

"Wes," I ask gently, stepping towards him cautiously. He twitches, his body snapping into place with shocking speed. I gasp, startling back. He looks over his shoulder, a bit of blood on his cheek catching the light.

"you ok," he asks.

"I gue- yea," I answer," a-are you?" he nods, turning fully to me. His shirt is covered in blood and rips, though no injuries of his own. As I curiously look for any bruises, cut, gashes, he walks over. He crowds me to the wall of wires, grabbing my arm and looking me over.

"He didn't do anything? When you were out of the room I quickly got in the vents and headed here. God, I was so worried when I didn't see him in the cafeteria," he sighs, dropping my arm and leaning his head to my shoulder. The concern is confusing. I awkwardly raise my hand to his hair, petting him.

"well, I'm fine now," I mumble, more worried about the alien resting against my body.

"Good," he nuzzles towards my neck, wrapping his arms around my waist to hug me close. My heart beats hard, my breath is shaky. I want to push him away, fight him off. Raising my arm I touch his shoulder, prepared to force him back.

"Wes," I start, a shakiness to my words.

"I won't hurt you," he mumbles," you are safe with me, B." he presses a kiss to my neck, tender and sweet. I stiffen, worried for a new reason. I wait for a reaction, wait for some more 'affections' that tell me his true intention. Instead, he just holds me. I fall for the charm, exhausted above all else. Falling lax in his hold, I wrap my arm around his neck and bury my face against his neck.

The crew search around the ship and soon come to Wes and me. They first see the bloody body, a true mess upon the floor, then us cuddling in the corner. Questions are thrown around before we are even taken back to the cafeteria. We answer, me doing most of the talking, telling them all about what happened. I leave a few details out, looking to Wes with concern. This crew has been on edge all week and will not take kindly to another alien aboard their ship.

With everything sorted out and the body launched into space things settle back to normal. We make way to heading back to base to finally put this behind us. It’s a lot quieter now as we all take the time to grieve and collect our thoughts.

I lay in bed next to Wes, laying shoulder to shoulder as we look to the ceiling. It's nice to finally have a moment alone with him, to ask the questions plaguing my mind since the fight. Yet, sitting here is all I can manage. We get some much-needed rest, seeking comforting in the other's company. Now, we lay here in silence.

"Wes," I barely whisper. He hums," you’re an alien?" it was a dumb question but I need to hear him say it.

He turns to me," Compared to you, yes." I nod, still staring at the ceiling.

"Why did you save me," I ask. He sighs, turning onto his side to look at my better.

"I like you," he shrugs," I didn't want you to be killed like the others, it felt like a greater loss than the gain of your death." I squint, snapping to him.

"What gain," I ask.

"Capture the ship," he answers," we stowed away when you all first departed. The supplies here would benefit my people but it's more along the lines of greed than necessity. It felt like an easy task."

"Wes," I nearly scoot away from him," did you kill my crewmates?" we stare into each other's eyes with great determination. Seeming to be a battle of wills, who will bow first to such an important question. He caves first, sighing as he twists back onto his back.

"yes," he answers simply.

"who."

"Not sure, I don't remember most of your names," he says," Rebel killed more people than me though, I got around five. I didn't have as much enjoyment as he did in the job. He was a true psycho, I was just a murderer."

His confession sits unwell in my chest. I want to run out of the room, not lay next to someone who killed my friends. Yet, I feel too exhausted. He saved my life, but that won't excuse him. It just numb. I feel him turn to me once more, I can't bring myself to look back.

"Say something," he requests. I sigh, closing my eyes.

"It hurts," I mumble. My heart feels like is being squeezed, like the weight of their death is sitting on my chest. Is it wrong to sit so companionly next to their killer? A change of heart cannot excuse the sins of the past. Either way, I can't ignore him or walk away. The trauma feels shared although it's not. He was there in the end, that should count for something.

"I'm sorry," he sighs," if I could take it back I would."

"I know," I say. We sit there, quiet once more. He watches me, I can feel his eyes on my face. I'm not sure what he is doing, checking my reactions, or finding joy in just looking to me. The chance of manipulation is there, though I can hardly believe he would do that. Just leave me to Rebel's abuse and there would be no need for trust-building. I don't know what to do.

"B," he breaks the quiet.

"yes?"

"can I touch you," he asks. My eyes suddenly open. I turn to look at him, confused at the request, and confused at the timid way he asked. He looks shy, worried at the potential of my response. It melts my heart, easing the grip the deaths have caused. I turn to my side, inches away from his face.

"Ok." Wes eagerly reaches out and touches my face. His fingers dance over my cheek, nose, mouth. He watches his hands with great interest.

"Soft," he mumbles. His fingers trail to my hair, grabbing a strand between his fingers.

As his curiosity is soothed he wraps an arm over my waist and pulls me close. I cuddle against his chest, resting a hand on his pec. As I sit there I notice he doesn't have a heartbeat. I hear nothing, not even the sound of his breathing.

"Wes," I start," what do you really look like?"

He shrugs," not like anything describable. I just mimic things, I don't really have a body."

"just a blob of tentacles," I jokingly ask. He snorts, squeezing me closer.

"Not too far off," he smiles," but I have more flesh than just a pile of worms. But for now, I look like this, this is my body." I pet his chest, trailing down under his shirt to touch at his stomach. He jumps, the muscles of his body flexing. The tips of my fingers gently glide over him, feeling the strangely rough skin. I slowly make my way up to his chest once more, laying my palm flat against him.

"This is you," I nod," alright." I fall lax once more to the bed, keeping my hand against him. It's quiet for now. The words rest in his head, seemingly accepted and approved of. It almost feels like the conversation is over.

"Do you hate me," he asks suddenly, saying it like he wasn't intending to ask. It's a question I've been asking myself. Could I hate someone who saved my life, tearing apart their partner in crime to protect me? I think the answer depends on what he is to do from now on. Would he leave to attack another ship or…

"Will you leave? Will you go to another ship and repeat what happened here," I ask guarded.

"No," he answers quickly," I cannot."

"Cannot or will not?"

He bumps his head to mine," will not." I look to his eyes, feeling the sincerity in them. It's odd seeing such feeling on someone previously so blank.

"Are you going to stay and work?"

"Is that what you want? For me to stay and work with you," his fingers twitch on my waist, his nerves shining through.

"With me or without me, I'd like you to work," I answer. He grips me a bit tighter, his lip twitching near disgust.

"I rather work with you than anyone else," he says. I pet at his chest, soothing the ire he seems to try to hide.

"Ok," I nod," if that's what you want then you can work with me."

Reaching that agreement I lull back into the security he gives. I feel like falling asleep, relishing in the warmth of his hug. I allow myself to stop thinking, ignoring any ideas and doubts that try to pop up. My eyes slowly fall until I'm nearly asleep.

"Do you hate me," he asks again, his low rumble forcing me back awake. I keep my eyes shut, snuggling closer to him.

"No," I say firmly," I don't hate you." he hums, cradling me with a kiss to my forehead. I bite back a smile, not ready to give him the satisfaction.

"Thank you."

We fall asleep once more, ignoring the lingering issues and just feeling some sort of peace.


End file.
